


made your mark on me

by lucylikestowrite



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ava Has Clone Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fade to Black, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 09:57:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15579384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucylikestowrite/pseuds/lucylikestowrite
Summary: Sara sits up, pushing the sleep out of her brain, smiling. "You changed your mind?" she asks, as Ava materialises.It only takes a second for Sara to realise that something is wrong, the smile slipping off her face. Ava is swaying, almost stumbling through the portal. When it closes behind her, she collapses against Sara's cabinet, grabbing out for something to hold onto. A trinket almost falls off, wobbling against the edge.Sara is up in a flash, no longer even half asleep.





	made your mark on me

**Author's Note:**

> title from dress by my girl taylor

Sara wakes up to a portal opening directly into her room.

There's only one person she’s told Gideon to let do that, so she's immediately alert, because the last conversation she'd had with Ava, where she had been trying to persuade her to stay the night, had ended abruptly.

Sara had been in the middle of listing all of the reasons why Ava should come over, her voice low and persuasive, and then Ava had gone silent, clamming up. Her only explanation for the sudden change had been saying, "I'm sorry. I got an email. I have to go," and then she’d hung up, leaving Sara to wonder.

Sara hadn't pushed it. Ava needs space, sometimes, and Sara is happy to give it to her—but if, Ava is going to turn up anyway, without Sara having to convince her, Sara’'s not going to _complain_.

She sits up, pushing the sleep out of her brain, smiling. "You changed your mind?" she asks, as Ava materialises.

It only takes a second for Sara to realise that something is wrong, the smile slipping off her face. Ava is swaying, almost stumbling through the portal. When it closes behind her, she collapses against Sara's cabinet, grabbing out for something to hold onto. A trinket almost falls off, wobbling against the edge.

Sara is up in a flash, no longer even half asleep.

She's never seen Ava like this, and her first thought is that she must be injured, but as far as Sara can see, there isn't a scratch on her. Her pyjamas, loose sweatpants and a long sleeved Henley, don't show any signs of damage. When she gets close, however, it's pretty obvious what it is. Even from a couple of feet away, she can smell the alcohol on Ava's breath.

"How much have you had to drink, baby?" Sara asks, her voice quiet, looping her arm around Ava's waist, supporting her easily, helping her over to the bed.

Ava's legs clearly don't want to work properly, because it's more effort than it should be, Ava dead weight under Sara’s grip. When they reach the bed, Sara lowers her, gently. They sit, and Ava leans into her, her head on Sara's shoulder.

"A lot," Ava says, blearily. “I’ve had a lot.”

"Yeah, I thought as much," says Sara. One of her hands is still around Ava's waist, and the other finds Ava's hands where they rest in her lap, stroking the skin of her hand, her palm, her fingers. Light movements to soothe her.

"I had gin. And tequila. And vodka. And whiskey. And, I think," Ava screws up her face, concentration evident as she tries to remember, "a jagerbomb. Or two," she says, holding up fingers to illustrate.

Sara would comment on Ava’s terrible taste in alcohol, but now isn’t the time. "Just that?" she says, and it's sarcastic, but drunk as she is, Ava isn't registering tone.

“God.” Ava groans. "No. Wine as well. An entire bottle. Once I was back home and starting to sober up. Didn't want to sober up." Her words are slurred, and everything she says sounds like it's an effort.

Sara stands up, and Ava reaches out for her, sadness in her face at the loss of contact. "No. Don't go. I came here so I— so I wouldn't be alone."

"I'm just getting you some water. I'll be back.”

"Don't need water. Need you." Ava pulls her back down, into her lap, her hands on Sara’s hips. Sara almost smiles, despite the situation, because it’s hard not to when Ava Sharpe is depositing you in her lap. "I need you," Ava continues, repeating herself, and then she shakes her head. "No. Not... that. Not just that. I need..."

She trails off, looking around the room, anywhere but at Sara. Sara drags her chin back so she's looking at her. "What do you need, Aves? You can tell me."

"I need you to... need me," Ava says, her voice breaking. Her eyes water, tears welling up.

Sara’s heart hurts, her chest tight. "God, Ava, I do. You know that, right?"

Ava is crying, the tears spilling out, down, over her cheeks. "Just me. Not... anybody else."

"There's nobody else, baby. I promise." Ava doesn't seem satisfied, though, because tears are still streaming down her face. Sara speaks again, her voice weak. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to stop the tears that still flow, getting thicker and faster. "Ava. Please. There's nobody else. Just you. No-one else."

Ava just shakes her head, pulls Sara's face down, kissing her hard. Sara can taste salt water, mixed in with alcohol. So much alcohol. "Ava…”

The kiss deepens, Ava’s hands tangling in Sara’s hair. The tears finally slow.

"I want you," Ava mumbles against Sara's lips, and then her fingers are going to Sara's pyjamas, slipping under, running along the line of her underwear. Sara stops them where they tease at the hem, gentle fingers on Ava’s. She would never usually turn this down, but Ava is drunk out of her mind, and, no matter what she thinks, she doesn't need sex, she needs water and sleep.

So Sara carefully extricates herself from Ava's arms, her feet touching lightly down on the floor. "No, Aves. Not tonight. You're too drunk."

"I'm not—" Ava starts, but then she seems to lose track of what she's saying.

"I'm getting you water."

When Sara returns, two minutes later, Ava is still exactly where she left her. Sara's not sure she even moved. Her back is straight, her body reverting to Bureau posture.

"You could've made yourself a bit more comfortable," Sara teases.

Ava looks at her, slightly stunned. "I didn't want to— didn't want to assume I was staying."

Sara rolls her eyes. "Baby. You’re staying. Obviously. I think I’d literally be the worst girlfriend in the world if I kicked you out right now."

"So you're letting me stay out of obligation?" Ava asks, her brow furrowing, and it's not bitter, just drunken confusion. She looks down at her hands, her face twisting into something resembling hurt.

"No, idiot,” Sara says, fondly. “You're staying because I love you, I want you here, and because at this point this bed is practically yours as well. You don’t have to ask to stay."

Sara hands her the water. Ava stares at it, then at her. "You love me?"

"Yes."

"Oh," Ava says, like this is the first time she's heard it, not the hundredth.

"Drink."

Ava does, and then takes a breath, before handing the glass back and twisting to slide under the covers, immediately at home in the spot she has claimed (reserved) as hers.

"I love you, too," Ava mumbles, already half asleep.

Sara settles in next to her.

 

The next time Sara wakes up, it is to Ava jumping out of bed, and sprinting out of the room.

According to the clock, it’s 4am Waverider time, but Sara is only a little reluctant as she gets up to follow Ava. Sure, it’s the middle of the night, but she would wake up at all hours of the night for Ava. It’s not even a question.

Ava is in the bathroom, like Sara had expected. She hadn't gotten out of the room quick enough to follow Ava, but it had been pretty obvious where she was going and why. Her head is bent over the toilet. Sara walks in, locking the door behind them.

"Baby?"

Ava coughs, her chest heaving. "I'm— fine. Go back to sleep."

"You're not fine, Ava."

"It's just a hangover. It’s nothing life threatening,” Ava says, her voice withering, as if that will change Sara’s mind.

"And? I'm still not going," Sara says, and she settles down next to Ava to prove her point. “You don’t get to show up in my room and then turn me down when I want to help you.”

Her fingers find Ava's back, rubbing smooth circles. When Ava leans down again, Sara pulls her hair away from her face. As Ava throws up again, her shirt rides up, and there, underneath the hem, is the edge of a gauze.

Sara's breath hitches.

Maybe Ava had gotten hurt, after all. Sara isn’t sure what she could’ve done to herself there, right above her hip, but the worst is already running through her mind. This drunk, the pain would be masked. Anything could be under that bandage.

"Ava, baby?" Sara asks, when Ava seems to just about be finished, as she wipes her mouth on the cloth Sara provided. She can't help worry creeping into her voice as she continues. "What's the bandage? Did you get hurt? When you were drinking?”

Ava looks down, as if she doesn't know what Sara is referring to, and then recognition sparks behind her eyes. She leans back, away from the toilet and against the bathtub, pulling her knees up, wrapping her arms around them as if to keep herself from falling apart. She closes her eyes, then says, almost sheepish, "I kinda, sorta, maybe got a tattoo."

Sara's mouth falls open. "Last night?"

Ava nods. She opens her eyes, looks down. She touches the gauze, and winces.

"Of what?" Sara pauses. "Because f it's my name, I might have to break up with you. That's too much of a commitment," she says, her voice light, joking.

"You'd break up with me after I got your name tattooed on me? Harsh, Lance," Ava says. Her voice is quiet, and she's not quite her usual self, but she's closer.

“Wait.” Sara meets Ava's gaze. "It's _not_ my name, right?"

"No," Ava says, too quickly. "At least, I don't think so."

"You don't—" Sara stops. "Are you saying you don't know what’s tattooed on your body?"

"Maybe." Ava pauses, obviously seeing Sara’s shock. "Okay, in my defence, I was very drunk."

Sara wants to laugh, but she doesn't. "And they let you get it?"

"As far as I can remember, they were reluctant, but then I chucked like $200 at them and promised I wouldn't sue if I didn't like it."

"So you have no idea what it is?"

“No.” Ava sighs. "Can you look for me?"

Sara nods. "Sure." She washes her hands, has her fingers around the edge of the gauze, and is about to peel it, when Ava's fingers encircle her wrist, stopping her.

"You're not actually going to break up with me if it's your name, are you?" Her voice wavers as she asks this, worry evident.

Usually Sara would be annoyed that Ava would even think that, but she's obviously vulnerable, still half drunk and not running on enough sleep, so Sara just smiles, lets her off, doesn't tell her off for the insecurity like she might have otherwise.

There are other times to make a big deal out of things like that, to remind Ava how much she loves her.

"No, Ava, I'm not." She presses inwards, leaving a kiss on Ava's forehead. "Promise."

Ava's eyes flutter closed again. "Okay."

"You ready?" Sara asks. "No turning back from here."

"I think I passed that point in the tattoo parlor."

"Fair," Sara says.

"You know, I can remove tattoos, if you wish," comes Gideon's voice, echoing through the room.

"No—" Ava says, but she doesn't have a chance to say more, because Sara is finally peeling the gauze away, and the the pull at the sensitive skin around her new tattoo is enough to shut her up.

If this were any other situation, Sara might have kept Ava on tenterhooks, but Ava looks so broken that she can't. There's nothing under most of the gauze—it's much bigger than the actual tattoo. The tattoo in question is nestled just above her hip bone.

"It's a tiny star, Aves. Teeny. Hardly more than a pointy dot."

Ava breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank god. I vaguely remember them showing me tattoos of naked women, because, I guess when I'm drunk I just tell everyone that I'm not into guys?" That was how Sara had found out, after all, so maybe there's some truth there. "Yeah, so I was slightly worried that was what it was going to be." Ava pauses. "Now that you say it, though, I do just about remember persuading them I wanted discreet."

Sara presses the gauze back down, leans in, captures Ava's lips with hers. Ava sighs again, her mouth melting onto Sara’s. A couple of seconds later, Sara pulls back half an inch, a tiny smirk on her face. "The only naked woman you are allowed to tattoo on your body is me."

"So your tits are okay but not your name?" Ava asks, a nervous laugh escaping from her throat.

"Yeah, basically," Sara says, grinning.

“I'll bear that in mind.”

Gideon speaks up again. "I presume Director Sharpe will not be requiring me to remove her tattoo, then?"

"No," Sara says.

At the same time, Ava says, "No, I need it."

"Need it?" Sara asks, and suddenly she's wondering if there is more to this than just a drunken escapade. "Is there a reason why you got this?" she asks, her fingers dragging lightly over the gauze, light enough that there is no pressure on the sensitive skin there, but just enough force that Ava feels it, looks down.

"I—" Ava clamps her mouth shut.

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want, if you want to keep it private-"

"No." Ava takes a breath. "I have to tell you. That's the whole— that's the whole point."

Ava's words are ominous, but it's just a tattoo. It can't mean that much. Can it?

But Ava's eyes are serious, and it doesn't feel like a conversation they should be having sitting on the bathroom floor, so Sara gets up in one fluid motion, pulling Ava with her. "Let’s go back to bed?"

Ava nods, wordlessly, lets Sara pull her back through the corridors, until they are back in their room (because it's hardly just Sara's anymore, is it?)

Under the covers, everything feels a little safer. Ava's hands find Sara's, and her eyes close.

When she speaks, her face is pained. "I’d been searching through the classified Bureau records to find out if I even— if I even have a birthday, and eventually our system said— it said that the closest thing to that would be the day Rip," she takes a breath, "the day he activated me and _stole_ me. And that was bad enough, but I kept _pushing,_ because apparently I'm a masochist, so I was searching for that date. And then it asked me which _time_ I wanted to know. Which _version_ of me I wanted the date for. The... first one or... this one and I didn't know what to say so I just checked both. And the programs finally emailed me my _logs_ yesterday and it was all this data that was about _me,_ about all the _versions_ of me, and I couldn’t take it. That was why I—"

"Why you cut me off, earlier." Sara's voice is quiet. She shifts closer. "It's okay."

"No, it's not, because I suddenly realised that I could die and they could replace me, put all my memories in a new version of me, and you wouldn't know. Sure, Rip’s gone. But we have a board. They have to know. If they wanted another one of me, they could do that. Easily. And I couldn't deal with that, so I got ridiculously drunk instead of just coming to you, and then I needed to— I needed to do something to… set me apart."

The wheels slot into place. "The tattoo," Sara says, understanding.

"It's all me. All mine. Not on any of the others. And it's not anywhere they would know about. So, if it goes then… you'll know. But only us. Just us."

"And Gideon."

"And Gideon," Ava agrees. "You can't let her tell anyone, though."

"Gideon? You heard the woman."

"Affirmative, Captain."

Ava is looking at Sara, and there is desperation in her eyes, the same desperation that was there when she arrived, when she needed Sara to tell her that it was only her, and something else clicks into place.

"Ava."

"Mmm?"

"You're irreplaceable. I don't want any of the other ones. It's only you. Only you, ever." Ava's eyes close, holding back the pain that is clear on her face. "Only you, Ava. Not any other other Ava in 2213. None of them in that entire world. None of them are you."

"They _are_ , though—" Ava insists.

"No. None of them are you. None of them are mine. You're mine." Ava stiffens, and Sara immediately realises her mistake. "Not— not like that, God, sorry, Ava. Ava. Baby. Look at me.” Ava does, tears blossoming again. "I didn't mean it like that. That you're mine like... that." Like property. That’s what Sara had made it sound like.

Ava wipes the tears away with her hand. "No. I know. I know."

"I'm sorry, Ava."

"No. I'm okay. I'm okay." Ava says it like she's trying to convince herself.

"You're not," Sara says. "And _that's_ okay."

Ava's eyes close again, and she presses in as close as possible, until there is nothing between them. She breathes out, and Sara feels the warm air on her skin.

 

Sara can't forget about the tattoo, about what it means, so she just tries to ignore it. When that doesn't work, she tries to turn it into something else.

They're sparring and it's peeking out the top of Ava's waistband, a tiny black dot that anyone else wouldn't notice, or would dismiss as dirt.

If, when she aims her foot for the final blow, it's at Ava's hip, and if she wants to, maybe, put a bruise there that will cover the star, she's not going to admit that. Except she does, because Ava sees everything, knows how her mind works, and calls her out on it, later, when they are patching up each other's bruises and scrapes.

They could just get Gideon to do it, but there is something therapeutic about it. Ava looks at the bruise on her hip, tugging her waistband down. "You did that on purpose."

Sara feigns innocence as long as she can. "Hit you? Yeah. That's the point of sparring."

"Hit me _there_." Her face is sad. "I didn't mean to burden you like this, make you think about—"

"Losing you? Having you be replaced by someone with your face?" Sara's voice is just a tiny bit bitter.

"Just don't think about it that way, please. I need this," Ava says, and Sara knows that. "I need to feel different."

 _You_ are _different_ , Sara wants to yell, but she doesn't, she just ducks her head, says, "I know. I'm sorry.” Now’s not the time to argue.

Hating it doesn't work, so she tries loving it instead, and it's a bit better.

 

They're stretched out in bed. Sara is making lazy circles on Ava's skin, getting closer and closer to the star.

When she reaches it, Ava closes her eyes.

"I decided which date I want to use. For my birthday," she clarifies. "I want to use the the date when he got _me._ Not the first one. Me."

“Okay,” Sara nods. “When is it?”

"September 13."

"So you're a Virgo," Sara says, smiling.

Ava frowns. "I mean, yeah, I suppose, but I hadn't really thought about what sign I am, since it's all bullshit—"

"Shh," Sara says, one hand moving to Ava's face, before kissing her quickly. "We deal with literal demons. Who's to say that astrology isn't real?"

"Me."

"God, that is such a Virgo thing to say."

"If you say so," Ava says, but Sara isn't listening, because she's on her phone, googling.

She sits up, her hair falling over her shoulder, looking down at Ava. "I think I can persuade you to like astrology," she says, a smirk on her face.

"Oh yeah?"

"Or, at least, like the constellation."

"Hmm?"

Sara's fingers splay over the star on her hip, her other hand reaching into her bedside table to find the pen she knows is there.

Ava's eyes widen. "Are you going to draw on me?"

"Yes," Sara says.

"And then? I just lie here and look pretty?"

"No," Sara says, sweeping Ava's hair out of her eyes, fondly, "although you're great at that."

"So, what are we doing?"

"I'm going to make you feel good, obviously," Sara says. "Now hold still so I don't mess up."

Ava does, freezing her limbs, and so she can't be too opposed to the idea. Sara follows the pattern on her phone to the best of her abilities.

At some point, she has to push Ava's shirt up, out of the way, so she has more skin to work with. Ava always looks beautiful like that, spread out and slightly rumpled, the side of her that only a few get to see.

Every time the pen touches Ava's skin, she shivers slightly. When Sara is done, she caps the pen, sits back.

"Now you're literally a heavenly body," Sara says, and it's cheesy, but Ava still smiles. "You know, this would've been so much harder if your tattoo had actually been a naked woman."

Ava tips her head back, actually laughing.

"Couldn't make a constellation out of that, could you?"

Ava shakes her head. "No, I suppose not." She pauses, examining her skin, the black marks against it, where they spread across her stomach and side. "You know, I'm still pretty ambivalent about the whole thing, though."

"That's fine," Sara says, leaning down. "We haven't even started yet."

"Oh?"

"Nope."

When Sara is inches away, she realises she hasn’t kissed the tattoo, not yet. She's only felt bad things about it, but that hasn't been working out for either of them, so she needs to change that. With her mouth hovering above it, it's just ink and skin. Nothing scary.

She closes the gap, laying a kiss over the star. Above her, Ava lets out of a soft gasp, an “Oh,” leaving her lips.

Sara's hands find Ava’s hips, gripping down. She slowly works her way around the constellation she had drawn, hovering over each star for a couple of seconds, making the anticipation build before she actually presses down.

The topmost star takes her underneath the curve of Ava’s breast, and Ava shivers, shudders when Sara only brushes it with the slightest hint of a lip.

When she reaches the last star, she's right above the line of Ava’s underwear, her mouth hovering, poised exactly where she'd planned to end up. She looks up at Ava. Ava's eyes are closed, and she looks out of it, dreamy.

A kiss on the front of her underwear brings her out of that, her eyes opening. Sara laughs, lightly, at the look on Ava's face.

“How are you feeling about astrology now, baby?” Sara is looking at Ava through her eyelashes, her face so low and close and ready for when Ava says the word.

“Pretty”—Ava gasps as Sara kisses the fabric again—“good.”

It's obvious she's not just talking about her feelings about star signs. Sara can almost _feel_ Ava's body vibrating with anticipation.

“Oh yeah?” Sara asks.

“Yeah.”

“You’re feeling good already? So you've had enough for tonight?” Sara teases, pulling back slightly.

Ava just raises an eyebrow, not deigning to give that a response.

Sara pulls away the underwear. “Okay. Okay. I wouldn't be _that_ mean.”

 

Afterwards, they're tangled together, Sara's head on Ava’s chest, their arms wrapped around each other. Ava kisses the top of Sara’s head. “I love you,” she says.

“You too,” Sara replies. “Always.”

Ava shifts uncomfortably. “Even if I— Even if I—” She can't say it, but Sara knows what she means.

“As far as we know, I'd have all the same memories. I'd look the same. It would just be a different body. What would you do? What would we do?”

Sara has spent days thinking about this. Anything she could say feels like a betrayal.

“I don't know,” Sara says, and it's truthful. “If she'd have your memories, then surely it would be you? Isn't that all we are? Our memories? It wouldn't seem fair to break up with her because she was _technically_ not you. But then again she _wouldn't_ be you, and you _are_ irreplaceable. This you. No-one else can be _this_ you. So I don't know.”

Sara’s hand finds the tattoo, her thumb rubbing over it.

“I'm just not going to let anything happen to you, okay?” Sara finishes, because that's the easiest option. To protect Ava with literally everything she has, to make sure she never has to decide what to do in that situation.

“Yeah, okay,” Ava says.

“You’re not going anywhere. This tattoo isn't going anywhere. Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> i don;t know how i feel about this. i wrote most of it months ago, had planned a very different ending (you can probably guess what the ending was seeing as i love angst) but could never quite write it. an ask i got inspired me to finish what i had written. there's so much i would change about this, like so much, but i'm just posting it, because otherwise i feel like i'm gonna keep giving myself reasons to never post again. i still mostly hate it, but y'all seem to like the things i don't, so hopefully someone gets something out of this.
> 
> lucy out


End file.
